


Cat's Cradle

by dalekanim (tenorth)



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: minor warning for language maybe ig??? idk, set after ETF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 00:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenorth/pseuds/dalekanim
Summary: After Enter the Florpus, Zim and Dib continue their rivalry, and Dib's put out that he's lost their more petty competitions three times in a row. Then, he notices the Irken is missing a few fingers, so he grabs some yarn and hatches a plan.





	Cat's Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> Am I really publishing an Invader Zim fic in the year 2019? Yes. Yes I am.
> 
> This shitty fic brought to you in completely un-beta'd form. I've just read through and edited it a billion times.
> 
> As I was writing this, I initially had the belief that this would be a little tiny drabble in which Dib challenged Zim to a string figure/Cat's Cradle competition (it's not a true game of Cat's Cradle considering that's usually cooperative, not competitive) and proceeded to make fun of him for being unable to do the figures because, well, alien hands. Out of curiosity, I taped my fingers together (yes, really) and tried to do string figures with "three fingers." I was quite surprised to find I was able to do almost all of the 10 figures I looked up except for the Solo Cat's Cradle and Witch's Broom, which made me rewrite the whole thing.
> 
> See notes at the end of the fic for a list of all the string figures! There's in-line links to pictures and/or videos, so you can see what shapes they're doing.

Life had to move on.

After the whole Florpus fiasco, their battles continued. Zim still tried to take over the world (a hard-to-break habit), Dib still tried to stop him, and on the side, in day-to-day life, their rivalry continued, too, ranging from serious to ridiculously petty competition: battles of test scores, kickball competitions, the annual door-to-door sales (although he used some admittedly sketchy methods, thankfully Zim never used his VR headset trick again), several more water balloon fights, who could make the scariest Halloween decorations… Dib once managed to badger Zim into eating human food by proposing an eating competition, though that certainly didn’t last long (and was the clearest victory Dib had ever had).

The challenges didn’t stop, and neither person backed down. Despite having gotten both participants into _ exceptionally _ bad trouble - Zim was out sick for a week after the eating contest, Dib broke his leg not once but _ twice _ during Zim’s proposed races, and even one unspeakable instance occurred in which they broke Gaz’s game console - they still played. It was an unwritten rule: once challenged, you had to fight.

And Zim had won the last _ three_, so naturally, Dib needed a _ really good plan_.

At first, he was automatically thinking of weaknesses: water, general incompetence, human food, etc., but he’d _ used _ all those already.

He needed something new. What advantage did humans have that Irkens didn’t? Oh, and it had to be something non-mobile. Dib’s leg was _ still _broken, and Zim was ridiculously fast - and not above cheating with his PAK legs, assuming they were racing after dark.

No, he needed a new approach. Something completely different. Something the Irken wouldn’t even suspect.

It was with this in mind that he marched confidently - or as confidently as one can with an over-sized medical boot immobilizing the lower half of one leg - over the school yard, a secret weapon stashed in his pocket. “HEY, ZIM!”

Nobody flinched, despite the volume; this was a regular occurrence. Or, rather, only one person did: a very tiny, green-skinned kid at the back of the yard.

“Dib-worm,” he sneered.

“ZIM!”

“I already answered you, Earth boy,” Zim snapped. “What is it? Why are you here? DON’T BOTHER ME!”

The last was said at a shriek, and Dib made a face. “Come on, man.”

Zim made an annoyed noise and thrust one clawed finger in Dib’s face. “Answer!”

Dib rolled his eyes, sticking his hands in his pockets and casually leaning back on one foot, only to wince and quickly set both feet squarely on the ground. “I’ve got a _ challenge_.”

Zim’s artificial irises lowered to the thick plastic walking boot, then up to Dib’s face, then down to the boot, and back up again - and finally, the alien began to cackle.

“Wh-what? Zim, I’m serious, I - ”

“You’re _ injured_,” said Zim, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “You’re _ injured_, and you hope to compete with _ me_, while you’re - ”

“Yeah, yeah, inferior human, let’s skip the megalomaniac speech,” Dib said impatiently. “I’ve got something you _ won’t _ be able to beat me at.”

Zim kept laughing at a volume that would normally cause heads to turn, but the school - rather, the entire _ town _ at this point - was used to his idiosyncrasies. Dib rolled his eyes again and made a show of awkwardly tapping his boot-clad foot.

“You done?”

“_Hhnooooo_,” wheezed the disguised alien, showing off zipper-like teeth in a wide grin. “Nooo.”

“No what? You’re refusing the challenge?” Dib said loudly, putting one hand to his ear. “What’s that, Zim?”

“NO!” Zim bellowed, dropping the laugh and looking downright insulted. “Fine, FINE! I will indulge your insignificant worthless human game AND I WILL - what's that, a _ string?” _

Dib had whipped his hands out of his pockets while Zim was mid-sentence, holding two loops of yarn. “_Tadaa_,” he stated proudly.

“_Eh… _?”

“Scared yet, bug-boy?” Dib taunted, and Zim’s forehead wrinkled even further. “Betcha’ can’t do what I can do with this thing.”

Zim raised one gloved hand to point at the string. “What are you going to do with _ that_, try to strangle me?” he asked blankly.

Dib snorted. “Tempting, but no.” He held one string out to Zim. “Here.”

Zim eyed it distrustfully. “Is it…” He inched forward, as if expecting it to explode. “...wet?”

“What, haven’t taken a paste bath lately?” Dib asked, and cackled when Zim actually flinched. “Yeah, I figured out that trick of yours _ ages _ ago. What’s up? Scared of a little water?” He flicked the string at Zim as if to flick water droplets at him, and Zim flinched again with a little “eep!” of anticipation.

When nothing stung, he dropped his arms and glared daggers at Dib. “No more, Earth-worm,” he snarled, seizing the string and holding it from various angles, trying to envision attack strategies. “What do you do with this… uh… _ thing _?”

Dib ducked his head, looping the string across his palms, threading his middle fingers under the loops, and pulling it taut. [ Three yarn diamonds stretched across his fingers. ](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9d/Opeinga.jpg) “_Tadaa_.”

Zim eyed the movements, then watched Dib for a long moment, clearly expecting something more. “That’s… it?”

Dib blinked. “Uh, yeah. It’s called cat’s cradle.”

“Just some _ string?”_

Dib faltered. “Well - ”

“You think just some _ string _ will defeat _ Zim?! _”

Dib made a face. “Dude, come on - ”

Zim began to cackle again, observing Dib’s little string shapes, then looked down at his own hands and began to thread his three fingers through the string. But as he did, he noticed something was a bit off.

And then it dawned on him: Dib had five fingers. Zim only had three.

It was a - “TRAAAAP!” yelled the invader furiously, and Dib jumped, nearly losing hold of his string.

“Jeez, Zim!”

Zim growled. “You think you can come in here, into MY HOME, and trick me into agreeing to your inane games? Huh? HUH?”

“We’re not even in your home,” Dib muttered as Zim made faces. “Besides, you already agreed to it! You can’t back out now!”

The Irken was thinking fast. It was only some _ string_, like a game of _ extriglort _ or something, he used to play that as an Irken kid! And this was just a bit of floppy yarn instead of electrified wire! He couldn’t forfeit. He _ couldn’t_. Invaders didn’t forfeit and - well - invaders didn’t give up - invaders didn’t - he WAS an invader, right, he WAS an invader, he - 

\- abandoned that train of thought pretty damn quickly. No use in getting worked up, right? Invaders didn’t forfeit. Factually.

So he’d just have to win anyway, right? Right?

He snapped back to the present, eyes roving over Dib’s string creation held between one, two, three fingers on one hand, and one, two, three fingers on the other… wait a moment.

“What’s the matter, _ alien? _ Not up to playing a simple human game?”

Zim hastily mimicked the movements on his own, using his second finger in place of Dib’s middle finger, and - 

“_Tadaa_,” he mocked, holding up his own copy of the three diamonds.

Dib’s face immediately dropped, as if he’d stepped in something nasty. “Hey, wait, how did you - ”

“A _normal_ human game for my _normal_ stubby human fingers,” Zim crowed. “_I_ _win_, Dib-stink!”

“_ Not so fast! _ ” Dib spat quickly. “Uh… try _ this!”_ He looped his thumb under the second strings, pulled the back string over his thumbs, dropped his pinkies, and pulled it taut again. “ [ Cup and saucer,](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/0AtT-pioprk/hqdefault.jpg) try THAT!”

Zim hesitated a moment before copying Dib’s movements, dropping the string from his last finger and pulling it taut triumphantly. “CHECKMATE!”

“That’s _ chess_, you idiot!” Dib snapped. This, uh, wasn’t quite how the start he’d envisioned. “Um…” He undid the string and looped it around his wrists before following the same first steps, then held his hands sideways, creating a [ drum-like pattern of diamonds](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/0b/40/d9/0b40d955a0c56c7109e908614d95d8f6.jpg) looped between his fingers. “Do THAT!”

The expression Zim made would’ve been akin to wrinkling one’s nose, but lacking that particular piece of anatomy, he merely bared his upper teeth. “Filthy human - ”

“Just do it, Zim!” he snapped.

“_Quit interrupting! _” screeched Zim. “You and your awful pitiful germ-covered smelly - ”

“These insults get _ real _ old, Zim - ”

“ - DISGUSTING HUMAN SACK OF ORGANS - ”

“THIS ISN’T HOW A HUMAN TALKS - ” Dib howled.

“SHUT YOUR EATING HOLE AND FEAST YOUR MYOPIC EYEBALLS UPON THIS!” Zim screamed, waving his hands furiously at Dib, the same pattern of string diamonds looped between his claws. “SEE? SEE?!”

Dib stared. “You little _ shit_,” he hissed, and Zim gave a loud, dramatic gasp, dropping the strings from one hand to cover his mouth.

“DIB SAID A BAD WOR-_ MMFFFH! _”

“Like you even know what that _ means, _ you alien!” Dib snarled, one hand smacked over Zim’s mouth. “You probably - _ ewww!” _ he yelled, snatching his hand back. “You _ licked _ me?!”

Zim cackled evilly, comically slurping his tongue back into his mouth. “Serves you right for touching me with your _ gross _doughy little hands!”

“You just _ licked _ those gross doughy little hands!”

That didn’t seem to have occurred to Zim previously, whose face instantly puckered as if he’d bitten a lemon, and he spun around, one fist held up to his mouth as if he was going to be sick.

“Oh, jeez, uh -_ drama queen _ Uh, come on, man, don’t throw up,” Dib mumbled, eyes closed to block out the gagging Irken.

“I’m not going to - _ hrrrk _ \- throw up, you revolting squish monster,” Zim growled, spitting harshly and wiping his mouth and tongue on his sleeve. “ _ Ahem. _ Show me your next move, _ loser_.”

Dib cracked open one eye. “You sure you aren’t going to throw up? I don’t have a very good stomach for - ”

“_Show me the move!” _ Zim intoned, attempting to loom over him and failing.

“Fine, fine, fine!” he said. “Fine. Okay, uh… let’s try…”

The next series of moves was longer and more complicated. As Dib dropped strings and picked them back up between his fingers, Zim grew increasingly more irate, fiddling with his own string.

“Hurry up, Dib-stink.”

“Shut up, alien boy,” Dib snapped. Eventually he turned his hands palm-out, the string held in a [ ladder shape](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/oXV1rX-PvR0/hqdefault.jpg) between his thumbs and pointer fingers. “Betcha can’t do - _ what the?! _”

Zim was following one step behind, and proudly finished his move with a dramatic flourish, trusting the grippy material of his gloves to keep the string around his claws.

Dib dropped his string and let out a frustrated growl. “How are you able to do all of this? WHY are you able to do all of this? _ You only have three fingers!” _

“Irkens are superior to all you _ huuuumans_,” Zim stated, as if it were completely obvious and Dib was just being dense.

“Ugh,” Dib groaned. “UGH. Okay, we’re three for three… I - wait. Wait. I’ve got one. Try _ this_.” He frowned, concentrating on his string for a moment, then finally held up his hands. “Hm?”

“Hm,” replied Zim pensively, studying the construction. It was the three-diamonds shape from the first move. “We already did that one.”

“No, it’s smaller, see?” Dib wiggled his fingers. “[It only uses these fingers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZM53k3pKCqg) \- wait wait wait, I’m practically _ giving _ you this one, aren’t I,” he said, backpedaling rapidly. “Can I do over?”

Zim was already trying to solve this one, string stretched between his claws. “No take-backsies!” he said in a sing-song voice. “And - oh. Hm.” The string was stretched between… only one set of fingers.

Dib stared. “Wait a second. You can’t do that one?”

Zim rounded on him. “I can do it!” he hissed, turning around to redo it. “Just… let me…”

“Hey, no take-backsies!” Dib insisted, waving a hand over the Irken’s shoulder. “Zim!”

_ “Get off me!” _ One slender spider leg rapidly flicked out of Zim’s PAK and shoved Dib, then flicked back into the PAK just as quickly.

Dib leaped up and spun around, ready as usual to declare evidence of Zim as an alien to anyone nearby, but despite the busy schoolyard, nobody had paid enough attention to notice.

Whether Zim intended to distract Dib that way or not, it worked like that anyhow, and the Irken finished his string figure, turning around to present… the exact same predicament.

Dib turned around just as Zim attempted to hastily shake the string out. “You can’t do that one, can you! Ha! _ Finally!” _

“Oh, don’t let it go to your overly-large head, _ human_,” Zim snapped, working the coils out of his string. “Fine. You want to take that one back? FINE. Zim will try another.”

“I don’t want to take it back, though. You can’t do that one.”

“TAKE IT BACK.”

“No, I won that round!"

Zim pounced, tackling Dib, and they rolled in the dirt, arms and legs flailing.

“ZIM! Get off me!” Dib shrieked.

“TAKE IT BACK!” Zim shrieked back, clawed fingers flailing ineffectually at Dib’s face.

“NO, I - _ ouch ouch ouch _\- ” Zim had grabbed Dib’s flyaway lock of hair and yanked on it hard, causing Dib to release his grip on Zim’s collar to try to work the alien’s fingers off the top of his head.

“OW!” Zim yelled, rearing back, and Dib sat up, panting. “_No pinching!” _

“You’re the one that tackled me!” Dib hissed. “Sore loser!”

“YOU LIE!” Zim screeched, and Dib snorted.

“Yeah, sure,” he said sarcastically, and the two eyed each other warily.

“Do another one,” Zim finally said, voice pitched low.

Dib wrinkled his nose, but complied, showing Zim yet another shape - three loops of string around three fingers on one hand, one loop of string around one finger on the other, to form a sort of [ witch’s broom shape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4SXbunPiMc).

This one took Zim two tries, as he had a bit of trouble twisting the string without it falling off, but sure enough, he smugly held up the same shape.

This continued with a [ star](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vj6x-hiEnx0), [ cat’s whiskers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxRKQEodKZc), and a [ sliding gate](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=11omMUvluwQ), and Zim went through each perfectly, earning nastier and nastier looks from Dib.

“Any more, Dib-stink?” Zim asked, self-satisfied as always. “Hm? HMM?”

“I… oh, what the heck.” Dib sighed heavily and looped his string around his fingers again, following through to eventually show [ another broom shape ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmWerCnJf3o) held between four fingers. “And you’ll probably show me that one, too, somehow.”

“Of course I will, feeble…” He trailed off.

“Uh… Zim?”

“CHEATING!” Zim bellowed suddenly.

Dib shrieked, jumping a foot in the air, but miraculously managed to hold onto the string shape. _ “What?!” _

“CHEATING!” Zim repeated at top volume._ “You slimy little earthworm - ” _

“Oh, drop the insults, Zim,” Dib snarled. “Just do your shape and we’ll mark this down as another tally for _ the great Zim _ or whatever. I’m tired, and you’re probably going to win, and…” He trailed off, staring at his hands as the Irken raved on: _ four _ fingers held _ four _ loops of string. “Wait a second.”

“YOU’RE CHEATING!” continued the irate alien. “You lay your trap to defeat ZIM - ”

“I… I _ win!” _ Dib shouted. “I win! I WIN!”

“YOU WIN NOTHING!” shrieked Zim. “YOU CHEATED!”

“I won fair and square!” Dib announced loudly. “You can’t do this one! You have to have more than three fingers! And you DON’T! HA!”

“This was supposed to be a game of _ skill_, of _talent_ and - ”

“No it’s not, it’s a game I picked specifically because it’s a _ human _ game that requires _ human _ fingers! And _ I _ beat you at it!”

Zim bared his teeth, fists clenched, the string discarded on the ground. “You and your feeble human _ games_,” he spat. “That’s _ nothing _ to an Irken invader!”

“You’re _ still _ on with all that? Come on, Zim.”

Zim’s expression darkened considerably. “What’s THAT mean?”

“Just, after everything - ”

The bell rang, and Zim pounced once more.

“_ Urkk _ \- Zim, what the heck?” Dib wheezed, flat on the ground.

“You may have won… for now,” the alien said harshly, crouching rather painfully on Dib’s chest. “_For now_.” And with that, he stood up, brushed himself off, checked his wig, and stalked off.

“Jeez,” Dib muttered, flopped in the dirt. “Come _ on. _ Why's he got to be such a sore loser all the time?”

“Come on, Dib,” yelled one of the teachers. “Time for class!”

* * *

At about 12:34 AM, Dib was woken by the resounding CRASH! of something being chucked through his window.

He shot up with a yell, clutching his covers around him and looking around frantically, then rolled his eyes. A rock had been thrown through his window, painted with large letters: ZiM.

“Only _ he _ would think to sign a _ rock_.” Dib groaned, picking up the rock and gingerly opening the window to drop the rock back outside… and rolled his eyes again.

Outside, a completely disguise-less Zim perched brashly with all four spider legs beneath him like a very strange mechanical hand, with a thick cable forming loops around the tip of each spidery PAK leg, then looped up through Zim’s hands in an enormous version of Dib’s final winning witch’s broom figure.

“You’re a big cheat, Zim,” Dib yelled out the window.

“I WIN, Dib-stink,” Zim yelled back, dropping the cable, and the _ clickclickclick _ of his PAK legs echoed down the street as he scrambled away. “I WIN!”

**Author's Note:**

> The string figures that Dib and Zim compete with are (in order) as follows: Open A, Cup and Saucer, Drum, Jacob's Ladder, opening of Solo Cat's Cradle, Eagle's Claw (simplified Witch's Broom), then Star, Cat's Whiskers, Open the Gate, and finally, Witch's Broom.
> 
> For more string figure tricks, I'd check out this playlist here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnVSlXPd2Vr4JnHvd0rgL0wv0cJ7w0O4e !


End file.
